


Abuse And How It Plays Into Identity In Tower Of Nero

by Keyseeker



Series: ToA analysis [11]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Character Analysis, Gen, Meta, abuse recovery, not fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyseeker/pseuds/Keyseeker
Summary: While abuse has played a role in previous Trials of Apollo books, and in the Greco-Roman main series as a whole, Tower of Nero digs into it most deeply.Identity and recovery from abuse are deeply linked here, with much of the abuse recovery coming from forging an identity separate from the abuser.
Series: ToA analysis [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799089
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Abuse And How It Plays Into Identity In Tower Of Nero

While abuse has played a role in previous Trials of Apollo books, and in the Greco-Roman main series as a whole, Tower of Nero digs into it most deeply.

Identity and recovery from abuse are deeply linked here, with much of the abuse recovery coming from forging an identity separate from the abuser.

Previously it mostly came up in The Hidden Oracle and The Burning Maze, with Meg’s relationship with Nero prompting Apollo to examine his own relationship with Zeus. 

Apollo knew in the back of his head that Zeus was abusing him, that his rage against the Cyclopes for creating the lightning bolt Zeus used to murder Asclepius, for instance, was him redirecting his anger onto a safer target because raging against Zeus directly was so unsafe, but he tried not to let himself think about it too much, and he tried to fool himself into thinking that Zeus DID care about him, that he loved him, at least enough that he’d help him if he saw him in trouble. 

Seeing Meg with Nero, how he manipulated her, how he subtly blamed her for anything bad that happened around her, for anything HE did, while trying to seem gentle and kind; seeing the abuse he went through reflected in this young girl led him to cope with his own abuse better. 

His experiences with abuse, with Zeus treating him as a scapegoat and ‘forcing’ him to punish Apollo if he stepped out of line, with his own feelings about the abuse and his own coping mechanisms and behavior as a result, are a useful reference for understanding and helping Meg through her experiences with Nero.

And helping her cope, separate, and try to grow after being manipulated by Nero for so long? Helps him come to terms with his own experiences.

He’s pretty explicit about the comparisons too. Like when Meg talks about how Lu used to help her pretend to kill people for Nero, helped her how she could, but Apollo’s mostly just horrified that Lu stuck around and didn’t take Meg and run… and yet part of him understood.

> _And are you any better?_ taunted a small voice in my brain. _How many times have you stood up to Zeus?_
> 
> Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to oppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything. (TON 57)

Lu may not have been quite as dependent on Nero as say, Meg - at least psychologically. Lu’s not a child by any means. 

But Lu’s only immortal because Nero is, and he can, presumably, revoke that. Nero provides her employment, a home, probably her entire social circle, AND he has the power and the will to go after her and anyone she cares about if she strays, if she tries to defy him. 

In those ways, her situation mirrors Apollo’s even better than Meg’s does - and while he’s angry at her for not defying Nero, he also understands. 

I suspect part of his anger and suspicion at her is also anger and suspicion of himself, for falling into a similar trap.

Still, though Lu has her own baggage with Nero, Meg’s is focused on a lot more, with how she’s grown and changed, and her desire to hang onto who she’s become while separated from Nero, to hang onto her own identity and personality and not what Nero attempted to shape her into. 

It’s to the point that she can barely comprehend who she was under him, how she used to think, what she did.

> “I betrayed you once,” she said. “Right here in these woods.”
> 
> She didn’t sound sad or ashamed about it, the way she once might have. She spoke with a sort of dreamy disbelief, as if trying to recall the person she’d been six months ago. That was a problem I could relate to. (TON 114)

Meg hasn’t really changed at her core as much as Apollo has - as much as she’s gone through, she at least wasn’t much of a jerk in the first place. Well, relatively speaking, when compared to Apollo. She’s abrasive, but not much beyond that.

But she HAS changed, in large part BECAUSE she’s more able and willing to stand up for herself in ways that she couldn’t do remotely safely while with Nero. She’s broken free of his psychological hold. 

During The Hidden Oracle she was ALREADY rebelling against him, she refused to burn the woods, but… well, she DID go with him, DID believe she could change him for awhile. 

But she broke free after realizing he wouldn’t, escaped and returned to Apollo, freeing herself from Nero’s grasp once more. 

For her, I think the difference between who she was six months ago and who she is now has less to do with her actual personality and worldview - those haven’t actually changed all that much throughout the books - but just in being free, somewhat safe (well, safer emotionally at least), and genuinely cared for. To not be under Nero’s influence to the same extent.

With Apollo… well, it’s a bit different with him. Zeus wasn’t as controlling as Nero, Apollo COULD have kept his space from him before; his sister has been doing that for millennia. But he has still changed a lot, moreso than Meg did, to the point that he’s almost unrecognizeable from who he was when he first fell to earth in THO.

Newly experiencing kindness, regular affection, and just having other people care about him though? He shares that with Meg.

Not that people have never been nice to him before, that’s not the case. But to have people be nice to him who he wouldn’t think would need to be, when he’s vulnerable… there’s a reason he’s been extremely touched when that’s happened even back from THO, and in this book he breaks down pretty much every time.

Meg struggles with needing to retain her independence, the new sense of herself she’s acquired during her journey with Apollo.

> “I have to go back,” Meg insisted. “I have to see if I’m strong enough.”
> 
> Peaches cuddled up next to her as if he had no such concerns.
> 
> Meg patted his leafy wings. “Maybe I’ve gotten stronger. But when I go back to the palace, will it be enough? Can I remember to be who I am now and not… who I was then?”
> 
> I didn’t think she expected an answer. But it occurred to me that perhaps I should be asking myself that same question.
> 
> Since Jason Grace’s death, I’d spent sleepless nights wondering if I could keep my promise to him. Assuming I made it back to Mount Olympus, could I remember what it was like to be human, or would I slip back into being the self-centered god I used to be?
> 
> Change is a fragile thing. It requires time and distance. Survivors of abuse, like Meg, have to get away from their abusers. Going back to that toxic environment was the worst thing she could do. And former arrogant gods like me couldn’t hang around other arrogant gods and expect to stay unsullied.
> 
> But I supposed Meg was right. Going back was the only way to see how strong we’d gotten, even if it meant risking everything. (TON 114-115)

Meg needs to keep her identity she’s created for herself away from Nero. But her question about remembering to be who she is now versus who she was back then fits Apollo’s conundrum better, something that is clearly not lost on Apollo.

> I knew my anxiety about my own weakness was getting mixed up with my anxiety about Meg. Even if I somehow made my way back to Mount Olympus, I didn’t trust myself to hold onto the important things I’d learned as a mortal. That made me doubt Meg’s ability to stay strong in her old toxic home.
> 
> The similarities between Nero’s household and my family on Mount Olympus made me increasingly uneasy. The idea that we gods were just as manipulative, just as abusive as the worst Roman emperor… Surely that couldn’t be true.
> 
> Oh, wait. Yes, it could. Ugh. I hated clarity. (TON 225-226)

Meg’s captured, being fully under Nero’s influence once more, with him trying to twist everything to be Apollo’s or Meg’s faults, trying to twist it so that every bit of distress that he puts Meg through is somehow the fault of her or her allies.

> She picked up the chair and threw it across the room - but not at Nero. It whanged off the window, leaving a smudge but no cracks. I caught the flicker of a smile on Nero’s face - a smile of satisfaction - before his expression fixed back into a mask of sympathy. “Yes, dear. This anger comes from guilt. You led Apollo here. You understood what that meant, what would happen. But you did it anyway. That must be so painful… knowing you brought him to his end (TON 235)

This kind of manipulation is Nero’s trademark, he uses it for most of the book. Telling Meg what she’s feeling, telling her that she’s feeling this way because of something wrong SHE did, not because of the horrible things NERO did. Trying to rewrite her reality to fall in line with what HE wants her to believe, to think.

Nero makes her change clothes, has her scrub up, even has her get a pedicure. 

Normally this would sound like a good thing. But it’s just one of the ways he tries to rewrite who she is, to break her sense of identity and replace it with one more to his liking. By taking away things that showed her own personal style, he took away reminders of who she is, as well as showing his ability to exert control over her, make her believe she has no choices.

> My heart broke. Meg looked elegant, older, and quite beautiful. She also looked utterly, completely no longer herself. Nero had tried to strip away everything she had been, every choice she’d made, and replace her with someone else - a proper young lady of the Imperial Household. (TON 285-286) 

Nero continues to try to twist the circumstances, to brainwash Meg into believing that he’s her savior and Apollo and the others may harm her. But Apollo keeps protesting, leading to this scene:

> I tried to contain my horror. “Meg,” I said. “There’s only one person you need to listen to here: yourself. Trust yourself.”
> 
> I meant it, despite all my doubts and fears, despite all my complaints over the months about Meg being my master. She had chosen me, but I had also chosen her. I did trust her - not in spite of her past with Nero, but because of it. I had seen her struggle. I’d admired her hard-won progress. I had to believe in her for my own sake. She was - gods help me - my role model. (TON 293)

Ultimately, MEG’S the one who decides. Who fights back. Because she was able to listen to herself, to not be twisted by Nero’s lies and deceptions.

> “I didn’t kill my father,” she said, her voice small and hard. “I didn’t cut off Lu’s hands or enslave those dryads or twist us all up inside.” She swept a hand towards the other demigods of the household. “ _You_ did that, Nero. I hate you.” (TON 295)

This was the tipping point. When she announced, to herself and everyone else, the truth. The reality. Rejecting Nero’s attempts to rewrite it.

> Nero hissed. “Ungrateful child. The Beast-”
> 
> “The Beast is dead.” Meg tapped the side of her head. “I killed it.” (TON 311)

I notice here she tapped the side of her head. Of course, she didn’t literally kill The Beast; Nero’s still alive after all.

But The Beast was a psychological trick Nero used on Meg, to make her separate him into two people; the ‘nice’ stepfather, and The Beast that takes over and punishes if she misbehaves. 

She ‘killed’ it, because she killed the concept.

There was never a Beast.

There was only ever Nero.

And now that she’s gotten out from under his thumb? She reasserts her own identity.

> Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones, and discarded blades that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she’d put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like my Meg. (TON 323)

I like the emphasis on how she looks older, but also like herself. She looks like what Nero made her into still, in a way - she’s still wearing that dress after all - but she’s made it her own, integrated herself into it.

It nicely parallels Apollo’s own situation, with needing to integrate who he’s become as Lester, who he’s grown to be, with his godly identity. Because things WILL be different once he’s a god again; he’ll have power he doesn’t have now, will have exposure to other gods that he doesn’t currently have. So he needs to figure out how to handle that, how to be a god, how to be Apollo while not losing what he’s gained as Lester.

> Even if I survived, I would not be the same. The best I could hope for was to emerge from Delphi with my godhood restored, which was what I had wanted and dreamed about for the past half a year. So why did I feel so reluctant about leaving behind the broken, battered form of Lester Papadopolous? (TON 327)

Like Meg was, Apollo’s struggling to get ahold of his own identity before he has to face his abuser again, has to re-enter that old toxic environment. He fears that if the trappings of “Lester” are destroyed, then like with Nero changing Meg’s clothes, that he’ll lose part of his connection to who he’s become.

As Apollo fights Python, his mortal body becomes less and less mortal, bringing him into an in-between, in-flux state that mirrors his internal identity crisis.

> “YOU CAN’T HIDE!” Python bellowed. “YOU ARE NO GOD!”
> 
> This pronouncement hit me like a bucket of ice water. It didn’t carry the weight of prophecy, but it was true nonetheless. At the moment, I wasn’t sure _what_ I was. I certainly wasn’t my old godly self. I wasn’t exactly Lester Papadopolous either. My flesh steamed. Pulses of light flickered under my skin, like the sun trying to break through storm clouds. When had that started?
> 
> I was between states, morphing as rapidly as Python himself. I was no god. I would never be the same old Apollo again. But in this moment, I had the chance to decide what I would become, even if that new existence only lasted a few seconds.
> 
> The realization burned away my delirium.
> 
> “I won’t hide,” I muttered. “I won’t cower. That’s not who I will be.” (TON 339-340)

Like with Meg before, he’s deciding, affirming for himself what kind of person he is now, who he wants to be, different from who he was before.

Even during the fight with Python, some small part of him hopes Zeus will intervene, will see he’s done enough and help him, save him. But here, that instinct is quashed for the final time.

> I _had_ done my best. Surely, Zeus would see that and be proud. Maybe he would send down a lightning bolt, blast Python into tiny pieces, and save me!
> 
> As soon as I thought this, I realized how foolish it was. Zeus didn’t work that way. He would not save me anymore than Nero had saved Meg. I had to let go of that fantasy. I had to save myself. (TON 341)

Much like with how Meg hoped back near the beginning of the series that Nero really would change, really was a good person deep down, Apollo kept up the hope in early entries that Zeus DID care about him and would come to save him at any moment. And even in later books, heck, even in THIS book, with Meg still calling Nero her stepfather a few times and the part of Apollo hoping that Zeus will intervene now, it’s hard to break the desire, the belief that that person who SHOULD care about you, surely will now.

But both of them break past that. Meg calls Nero out, rejects his attempts to rewrite reality, and Apollo kills the idea that Zeus might intervene on his behalf.

By the time Apollo’s a god again, he has a firm bead on the kind of person Zeus is, as well as the type of environment Mt. Olympus is, with most of his family just watching his trials and tribulations, everything he and his friends went through, and betting on the outcome. Only Artemis and Hera seemed to take things seriously, seemed to deeply care whether he lived or died.

Not that the others could have interfered against Zeus’s wishes.

> As much as we pretended to be a council of twelve, in truth we were a tyranny. Zeus was less a benevolent father and more an iron-fisted leader with the biggest weapons and the ability to strip us of our immortality if we offended him. (TON 366)

Apollo just kind of hangs back for the council session, having little to say to anyone except Artemis, not caring much about what the other Olympians thought, and not really feeling like one of them as a whole. Though that was true even before he actually walked into the room.

> I remembered my dream of the throne room - the other Olympians gambling on my success or failure. I wondered how much money they’d lost.
> 
> What could I possibly say to them? I no longer felt like one of them. I _wasn’t_ one of them. (TON 358)

And finally, the long-awaited confrontation scene with Zeus. It wasn’t long. It wasn’t flashy. Unlike Meg, he couldn’t attack and get rid of his abuser, couldn’t get out from under his influence entirely. Zeus is King of the Gods; realizing that he’s an abusive asshole doesn’t change that.

But he COULD change his own response to the situation.

> My father coughed into his fist. “ I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.”
> 
> I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.
> 
> “But you must understand,” Zeus continued, “only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way… regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud.”
> 
> Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let’s be honest: some fathers don’t deserve that. Some fathers aren’t capable of it.
> 
> I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.
> 
> But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.
> 
> You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different than him. Better. More… human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible. (TON 367-368)

Apollo just… let go of any attachment to Zeus. It reminded me of the Cumaen Sibyl, with how she forgave Apollo for her own sake, how Apollo felt that he himself was being erased by that. 

This isn’t a reconciliation; this is simply Apollo putting Zeus as far behind him as possible and trying to let him take up as little space in his life as he can. He may not be able to cut all ties to him, but he can at least minimize his connection to him, his influence over him.

In the end, Apollo doesn’t even really consider what he went through to be a punishment; not really.

> To be honest, though, I could no longer consider my time on Earth a punishment. Terrible, tragic, nearly impossible… yes. But calling it a punishment gave Zeus too much credit. It had been a journey - an important one I made for myself, with the help of my friends. I hoped… I believed that the grief and pain had shaped me into a better person. I had forged a more perfect Lester from the dregs of Apollo. I would not trade those experiences for anything. And if I had been told I had to be Lester for another hundred years… Well, I could think of worse things. At least I wouldn’t be expected to show up at the Olympian solstice meetings. (TON 373)

Like with his conversation with Zeus, he’s minimizing Zeus’s control, his influence over himself and his life. 

And in the end, Apollo leaves Mt. Olympus as soon as he can to spend time with all the new friends he’s made, away from the toxic influences of Olympus and of Zeus especially. Reaffirming his new identity, his new self by appearing in his Lester form, the form he’d grown in, that he’d forged for himself.

I just really love how in-depth Tower of Nero went, especially with the way it emphasized the identity manipulation and erasure involved with some kinds of abuse.


End file.
